The Demon in the Dark
by Epsarrow
Summary: A serial killer stalks mainly male victims in DC before torturing and killing them. What happens when, after getting too close in a case, he preys upon one of the team? Violence, angst, friendship, and team bonding!
1. Chapter 1

**BONES**

**Insert Creative Title Here**

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><p>I do not own Bones or the characters<p>

Rated T for violence, etc.

Wendell just so happens to be my favourite intern. xP He's adorable!

Oh yeah. This is before Brennan's pregnancy/Vincent's death even though Vincent doesn't appear in the story.

Or maybe he will. I don't know yet.

* * *

><p><strong>OC POV<strong>

The victim lay at his feet, curled in to a shivering, bleeding and broken ball.

He was smaller than the other two, but he had a surprising strength that had landed several defensive blows. Regardless, his own power had reigned supreme. Now was nearing the end of his fun. The victim had long since run out of the strength to respond.

The Master grinned at the pleasure of his game.

He would find another victim before long. Each time his skill grew more crafty, and each time he found new ways to enjoy the game.

Withdrawing a dagger from his pocket, he lifted the victim from the ground, savouring his terrified struggles; he drew the knife across his throat and left him to bleed to death in the dirt as he walked away.

* * *

><p><strong>Booth POV<strong>

"Ah, that's disgusting," he said with a grimace as he took in the scene in front of him.

A half decayed body lay twisted in an agonizing position, rotting flesh hanging from an obvious skeleton, with stings holding pieces together that had nearly fallen. The back was arched around and the jaw was frozen in to a scream of agony that bore straight to his soul. The empty eye sockets - he didn't want to know what had happened to the eyes - stared at a lost scene. What got him the most was the throat was a gaping mass, revealing the bone behind the torn flesh.

It reminded him of something he had seen in a morbid horror movie - but this certainly didn't make him think "human".

Monster, maybe.

But the fact that this ... thing... was once human... It was disgusting!

Bones looked up from where she was crouched over the skeleton, gloved hands gliding with practiced ease over the grizzly creature.

"I agree. The body has been horribly mutilated..." She trailed off in to an inaudible murmur that contained words with too many syllables for him to understand.

"Naw, she's a beauty!" Booth turned to glare at Hodges who was staring at an enormous spider that made his stomach churn. His blue eyes were filled with an excited twinkle as he looked over 'her' body, and he was grinning almost fatherly.

Booth heaved a breath and turned back to Bones. "Anything?"

"As of now I'd say that he was killed by a sharp object being ripped across his throat-"

"So someone slashed his throat. Anything else?" He couldn't understand why she couldn't just say it in English. Simple, normal, everyday English. It would make his job much easier.

"The body is covered in-" she trailed off as a small animal burrowed its way out of the decaying body's empty eye.

"Ugh!" Booth turned and began to walk away before Hodges started to squeal like a fan girl.

* * *

><p><strong>Cam's POV<strong>

After separating the flesh from the bones, she went to analyze the contents of the stomach. Hopefully that could point out as to where the victim may have been last before having met his - Dr. Brennan's pre-exam had pointed out the body was indeed a male - demise. With that discovered, she could then hope to unravel the events that led up to the death so Booth could, hopefully, find the victim's killer.

The computer beeped.

She turned and with semi disappointment found that the stomach contents contained chicken, rice, and carrots - meaning the victim could have been anywhere, even at home, for his last meal.

Hopefully Angela could give the victim a face so they could discover any links to his past that may point out a few leads.

"Doctor Saroyan?"

She looked up.

There was only one person around here that used her professional name so tenaciously. Sure enough, there was Wendell leaning in to the doorway, with his dirty blonde hair scattered with no real pattern across his head.

"Yes, Mr. Bray?"

"You have to come see this," and with that, he was gone.

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><p>Apologies. This is short. Anyway. Cliffhangers. :D Sorry. Read and review please? I tend to not much unless I find that people actually want me to. xP Improvements, stupidness, etc? I'm not intelligent enough to understand all the Bone speak, so I won't include that much. Anyway. This is going to turn all crime-y! Just a hint. :D<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**BONES**

**The Demon in the Dark**

* * *

><p>I do not own Bones or the characters<p>

Rated T for violence, etc.

Wendell just so happens to be my favourite intern. xP He's adorable!

Oh yeah. This is before Brennan's pregnancy/Vincent's death even though Vincent doesn't appear in the story.

Or maybe he will. I don't know yet.

* * *

><p><strong>RANDOM CHARACTER (no set character) POV<strong>

When Cam followed Wendell down the hall she found that everyone was focused on Booth who was standing, grim faced, listening to someone on the other end of his cellphone.

_He came to get me to watch Booth talk?_She wondered. She knew better.

"Yep. Yeah, okay. We'll do that," Booth shut the phone and then looked mildly in to the distance for a moment.

Cam's confusion grew, as did her concern.

"What happened?"

"We found two more bodies with similar... beatings... Both were males, approximately the same age, and we are still working on the identities of the other two," Booth's voice was tight and it was clear that... _Oh!_

"The other two? Who is this guy?" She nodded to the body beside her before coming up with her next question.

"Michael Olson. Early twenties, he was reported missing by his parents two weeks ago. They said he was coming home to visit for his mom's birthday and he never showed up," Angela said and her face was solemn. _What a horrible birthday present,_she thought.

Now it was Cam's turn to go grim.

She looked at Booth.

"We're looking for a serial killer," he said, and they all turned to see the two additional bodies being brought in.

* * *

><p><strong>Brennan POV<strong>

Wendell and Hodges had been sent to the crime scene scenes to collect any evidence they could as to who the killer might be, and Angela, being as death-wary as most normal people, had run off - so now it left Brennan and the bones (Cam preferred the flesh to the bone).

The fact that it was a serial killer whom had killed these three men were of little interest to her.

No, it was more of the fact of how_ similar_each of the men were.

All three were either in their very low twenties or late teens, were of a lesser than average build (not very muscular or generally strong), and had received similar injuries. Broken bones, lacerations, a slit throat. They had been brutally beaten for a long time before being killed, and if that fact wasn't sickening or not, the wounds not only spoke of an angry attacker, but one who_ enjoyed_what he or she was doing - a serial killer for sure. He or she enjoyed the 'game' of causing people pain.

What she also noticed that the damage had not been done quickly.

It had been carried out over a long period of time - the oldest break on their known victim Michael being just under two weeks ago, when he had been reported missing. The newest injury had been the slice to the neck, done sometime between twenty and twelve hours ago.

All three victims had been tortured, killed, and dumped.

Now she had to figure out who had done it. There was no_ why_for crimes like these. No rationale. No remorse or sorrow or motivation other than being at the wrong age at the wrong time, at the wrong gender at the wrong time, or even of the wrong hair colour, eye colour, race, and clothing style at the wrong time. Serial killers had serious issues even beyond their killing - it was normally some deeply rooted social issue that was directed at a specific thing, but it wasn't always the same 'thing' that they went after. No, they could change patterns as wildly as a bird changed its course. They evolved, and devolved. They killed and killed again. They begged to be caught.

So she would catch them. With Booth, of course, they would catch the serial killer, hopefully before he or she struck again.

Whoever he or she was, they were playing a very distasteful game indeed. And it truly was a game to them. Human lives were not really lives, but just numbers and statistics, and feelings and emotions of any sort were nonexistent figments of the imagination

Even she, as rational as she was, understood the human (and perhaps animal) need for feelings and emotions.

Without them there would surely be a lot more bodies piled up - and no one around to bring them justice. And life would be nothing but a video game for the demons in human skin.

* * *

><p><strong>OC POV<strong>

As he watched the news, he felt his face twist in fury.

The bodies had been found, by some stupid, meandering idiot no doubt, who had nothing better to do than try and throw a cover over his game. _You goddamned sonovabitch,_he thought, pacing stress-fully

The FBI was involved, and so were scientists from the best crime lab in, probably, the world.

_You left no evidence on the bodies. You have nothing to worry about,_ he assured himself. Still, it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on them... To add a new chapter to his game. And if they got too close...


	3. Chapter 3

**BONES**

**The Demon in the Dark**

* * *

><p>I do not own Bones or the characters<p>

Rated T for violence, etc.

Wendell just so happens to be my favourite intern. xP He's adorable!

Oh yeah. This is before Brennan's pregnancy/Vincent's death even though Vincent doesn't appear in the story.

Or maybe he will. I don't know yet.

* * *

><p><strong>Wendell POV<strong>

It was raining by the time they reached the scene.

The second victim had been discovered in the back woods of a park. A couple had been enjoying their day, walking through the woods when they literally stumbled over the long-decaying body of a victim whom had probably disappeared well over a month ago. They had yet to I.D. him, but the level of decay said he had been dead for at least three weeks, and if the pattern of the former victim was followed, then he would have been missing for two weeks before that.

He couldn't help but feel a prickle of sympathy towards the victims - despite Dr. Brennan's warning at connecting with the dead. They had gone through hell, been tortured by some crazy psycho maniac. They had been taken from their families. And had been killed.

It could go down as one of the most horrible ways to go.

He thought about his own mom and wondered how she would feel if he had been kidnapped and turned up dead a couple weeks later. She would be more than heartbroken - after the death of his father, he was the only thing she had left. That and God, of course. But He could only do so much...

He shook the thoughts away.

They had a murder to solve.

Trudging beside Hodges to the yellow taped crime scene, he found that the rain was going to make this more difficult - the FBI agents were still setting up the tent to cover the scene, but already everything was wet and possibly getting washed away.

Or not everything...

He knelt down in the dirt, finding a small scrap of fabric. It could have been from the victim, or from some random person whom had walked around here sometime within the last year or so - but it was evidence and they had to bag. Besides, what if it was from the killer?

Somewhere up ahead, Hodges was beginning to dig through the soil beneath the body area. Bugs could have burrowed there once the body had been removed, and they could have eaten something crucial.

Somehow he doubted how they could find anything resembling the killer's DNA in this month old grave site.

Then again, they had done the impossible before.

Something caught his eye.

"What is that?" He stood and climbed carefully around fast-growing undergrowth. The edge of piece of tissue paper, or a napkin or tissue was sticking out beneath a large rock. He stole a glance at the rock - more like a boulder than anything else, and realized it was one of those "edge of the trail" border rocks that were often placed and replaced. A dot of red could be seen on the napkin before it vanished beneath the boulder. A scenario played out in his mind.

_The kid was dead. The killer turned, dabbing at the bloody nose he had received during the struggle with a napkin. He turned to walk away, letting the napkin drift to the soft forest floor. It would rain soon and the soft material would deteriorate in to nothing - besides, people rarely ever came this far in to the woods. By the time the body was found, there would be nothing left to find here anyway._

A new trail was being put in and the workers naturally had to line the trail with boulders - it gave it both a safe feel and a natural aspect. They placed down the boulder on top of the bloody napkin, no one noticing it or even realizing what it was. Now when storms went by the fragile material was protected beneath the heavy, nearly airtight space beneath the stone.

He blinked back to reality.

"We need to move this," he said to Hodges, nodding at the boulder.

Hodges looked between him and the boulder with that incredulous _what the hell are you talking about _look on his face. "That? Move _that?_What do I look like, superman?" And suddenly he grinned as though he thought being superman was exactly what he was (until it came to actually working).

"There's evidence under it," he replied. "And we could just wait for someone to come and lift it."

It was generally freezing during misty rainstorms. This was no exception. The thin field lab coat that was supposed to be moisture proof did not do its job very well. He could tell by Hodges expression that he was cold too.

"Alright, fine," he looked deflated.

It seemed the boulder had a heavy end which just so happened to be pressing down on the napkin. Wendell hoped it wasn't just a ketchup stain from some idiot who brought food in to the wild trails. Man, could he picture Hodges face then.

Neither them had allusions of picking it up, but Hodges leaned it back while Wendell carefully slid his fingers under and pulled the napkin. Hodges lost his grip on the slimy, wet stone and it crashed back to the ground. Wendell couldn't help but flinch as the boulder landed hard on the area his fingers had been under just a second before. He looked up to see Hodges flat on his ass after he had been propelled backwards from the force of his grip being slipped away. He couldn't help but begin laughing.

"Who says I dropped it on accident?" Hodges made his threat clear. Wendell forced himself to put on a poker face even though his chest still shook from laughter.

"That better be blood and not ketchup," Hodges warned as he stood and brushed himself off. Wendell realized he was shivering and he felt a little bad now. Ironically Hodges remark had mirrored Wendell's own thoughts.

"Only one way to be sure," he responded and stood.

He put the napkin in a bag and headed to bring it to the truck. The moment he stepped out from under the tarp, he swore the rain began to come down twice as hard. He was soaked through the skin, and now freezing made him hurry across to the truck. First he put the back in a safe evidence locker, less the bag failed and the evidence was wet, and then he shed the lab coats to put on a decent jacket. It went against procedure, but he'd rather get in trouble for having a lack of uniform than be stuck in the hospital with pneumonia for a few days.

He turned to head back to the tarp.

Out of the corner of his eye he was sure he saw a shape move, but before he could turn, pain erupted in his skull that brought him to his knees. He stared blankly at he ground for a moment, thinking he saw a boot at the edge of his failing vision, and then everything went dark.

* * *

><p>Another cliff hanger? Yep! Sorry about that! I'm going to try to make them longer from now on, but no promises seeing as I'm lazy... Anyway. Thanks for the reviews!<p>

Also, am I capturing the character's personality correctly? Sometimes I feel like I can't get the right at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**BONES**

**The Demon in the Dark**

* * *

><p>I do not own Bones or the characters<p>

Rated T for violence, etc.

Wendell just so happens to be my favourite intern. xP He's adorable!

Oh yeah. This is before Brennan's pregnancy/Vincent's death even though Vincent doesn't appear in the story.

Or maybe he will. I don't know yet.

* * *

><p><strong>Hodges POV<strong>

When Wendell hadn't come back after a few minutes, he began to get annoyed. What was the kid doing, throwing a party in the back of the van?

He waited a bit longer.

"Oh, _come on_," he complained, finally giving up his lone search to find his missing colleague. He was puzzled when he reached the side of the van and saw that Wendell wasn't even there. Did he go for a -

He blanched when he saw that the evidence locker on the side of the truck had been repeatedly bashed with something hard - some kind of metal, probably - and that the evidence was _gone_. Wendell obviously would never do that... So did that mean...? He spun wildly, searching.

"Wendell? Hey, Wendell!"

He would tell the kid all the time, usually teasingly, that he was just some silly kid who didn't belong in the lab. But they both knew it wasn't true. They were colleagues, but more than that, they were friends.

He looked across the street, shivering fiercely now.

_Shit, shit,_ he thought. He was too worked up to realize he was swearing, and he_ never_swore! What had happened? Had he run off? Had someone, presumably the killer, attacked? Wendell would never run off with evidence. Not to mention there was nowhere to run to. He began to head down the road, looking at every mark on the ground. He reached for his phone and found is soaking wet - damned Jeffersonian coats made of crappy material because of the cheapo government!

"Wendell!" He shouted desperately.

It was no use.

He slipped, twisting his ankle and falling hard to the muddy roadside as he stepped in a hole... _A hole?_

He blinked through the pain in his ankle to stare at the tire marks of a heavy vehicle, which had obviously sped off in quite a hurry.

_Oh, God, no,_ he thought.

* * *

><p><strong>Wendell POV<strong>

His dreams were dark and swam chaotically. The world was dark and unfamiliar, and his head... God it hurt! He could hardly think through the haze of exhaustion (ironically he was exhausted in his sleep) of pain. But he could still dream.

His dreams were a strange collage of things.

Panic. Flashing roadways and lights of other cars. They were speeding along and he could have sworn there were blue lights flashing. It was raining. Lightning flashed and the scenery changed. They were driving more slowly now, and the rain had stopped. He could see out the window and there was nothing but forestry - no sign of human habitation. Somehow he wasn't able to feel fear anymore. In fact, he couldn't feel anything except the pain ricocheting in his skull. Staring out a the forest, he could have sworn he saw a terrifying creature that was nothing but skin hanging from bone and red eyes, but that was probably the concussion. He acknowledged that he had a concussion, but didn't have the interest, energy, or mental ability to explore it any further.

He closed his eyes and tried to rescue himself deeper in to dreams.

His side hurt suddenly. His ribs were searing with fire that made him groan and try to wriggle away from the fire that was pressing in to his side. Either it followed, or he wasn't able to move.

His eyes drifted open slowly.

Seeing as almost impossible. He was looking through a cloud, and his hearing was a megaphone amplifying all sound and sending it rocking off the walls of his skull. Heartbeat. That hurt too. Mostly because it was too loud. That, and it felt as though it was beating in the back of his neck, rendering him next to immobile.

"You're awake!" A gleeful voice made him jump.

He moved his eyes instinctively towards the sound of the voice, noting the dark figure of an enormous man crouching before him.

"Who are you?" His voice sounded raspy, even to his own ears. How long had he been out? Better yet, where in the world was he? He wondered why he hadn't thought about that before now.

"That's what they all ask. 'Who are you,' or 'Where am I,' or 'What are you doing.' Why does it matter?"

The voice took on a maniacal edge.

His heart began to race and for the first time he was beginning to understand. _This man. He hit me over the head? Does that mean..._ He tried to sit up but immediately grew dizzy and was forced to relax again. _Is this the serial killer?_The thought seemed more terrifying to him now than it had before. How things changed according to the situation...

"This is a little game that I like to play. I'm the hunter, you're the prey. But hey - I have an advantage. I'll give you a head start. Run. _Run._

Pure terror was enough to make him lurch to his feet. He was wobbly and the movement blurred his vision even more. The killer pushed him hard, saying "run now!" and he fell flat on his back. Groaning at the protest in his skull, he shuffled sideways on his hands and knees, using the wall as a guide to prop himself up. Feeling the killer's amused, hungry eyes on him, he staggered like a drunk in the first direction he could, for no purpose other than to get away.

* * *

><p><strong>OC POV<strong>

Kidnapping the lab rat had been a last second decision. He had been stunned to find that his bloody tissue had survive so long. He knew he had to get rid of it.

He had planned only on knocking out the kid and destroying the evidence. But seeing the lab rat lying unconscious in the dirt had given him better ideas. His next game - a higher level. This one would be missed. This one would make the police go crazy. Besides. The kid fit his... appetite. Young, on the 'fragile' side, and easy to bring back to the perfect place to hold his game.

Given that the kid was hardly capable of moving, he would give him an hour head start before the real games began.

Patiently, he sat in his chair and waited, knowing that the lab rat had no chance of getting away.


	5. Chapter 5

**BONES**

**The Demon in the Dark**

* * *

><p>I do not own Bones or the characters<p>

Rated T for violence, etc.

* * *

><p><strong>Wendell POV<strong>

He was fortunate that he picked _ice hockey_ as his sport of choice. Moving quickly and making decisions with splitting headaches, sore ribs, and a concussion was something he had to do a lot in that sport. Some may call him crazy for picking a sport where they fought more than played, but it was _exciting_. The fighting was practically the game after all. And besides. Who says being slammed against a wall is a bad thing? Sure, it could leave you stunned for a few minutes, but it did become hilarious after awhile, when you're lying on a stretcher laughing hysterically because your brains have been scrambled...

... Definitely the concussion.

Trying to focus, he moved as quickly as he could while leaning against whatever wall he could find. There was no furniture in this strange, seemingly windowless and door-less place. The only furniture he had seen was the chair that the killer had been sitting in. Wherever he was, it certainly wasn't the average civilian home.

Which meant...

Warehouse, unknown location, rural location, some creepy lab in a crazy person's basement... His mind went off on hundreds of different possibilities and he found it impossible to control the thoughts as they took over his very being.

_Ugh,_he thought, stumbling as his legs almost gave out beneath him from exhaustion.

He had very little control over his own body. It wasn't the greatest feeling in the world, being chased by a serial killer who wanted nothing more than to cause you pain, only to find that your body was more in favour of not listening to your commands and letting you collapse so that whoever was chasing you could catch up and kill you. If only the brain wasn't the main control for every function in the body... When the brain experiences a trauma, it's not just the head that suffers.

He suddenly couldn't see.

He wondered if he had simply lost sight functionality as something in his brain shifted, but then he realized that there was a faint outline, so he understood that it must have been really dark in the room.

The darkness suddenly amplified his exhaustion.

He moved with a shuffling slowness, feeling around the room. He needed to keep going, but something in his mind told him he had to stop. He had to lie down. Instinct told him he couldn't afford to. Everything else told him he couldn't avoid.

He felt his way around a wooden desk or shelf, turned the corner and found himself face to face with another wall. Unable to go any further, he slid down to the wall, edging himself as close to it and the shelf/desk as he could, hoping it would hide him from sight for the time being. Before he knew it, his eyes had drifted shut and he slipped away in to the powerful lull of unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><strong>Booth POV<strong>

He paced. It was a habit of his to pace whenever he was agitated, anxious, worried, or just plain furious. At the moment he was all of the above, and then some, and his mind was bouncing between throwing up and going and beating the crap out of someone. He wasn't sure who. He just wanted to hit someone - something.

For that reason alone he kept his distance from everyone else in the lab, and away from anything expensive.

There was nothing he hated more than some filthy piece of garbage hurting someone he cared about - one of _his_people. He was supposed to protect them. Every time they got hurt, he had failed.

Angrily he told himself that they would catch the murderer before long and he could give him all the suffering that the monster had given to all of his - he was nearly certain that the killer was not a female - victims... _Victims._ The word made him want to cringe. Was Wendell a victim? Would his be the next body found? His stomach churned at the thought and he suddenly wanted to leave the lab and go out and do _something._But what? Float around in the car and use his x-ray vision to find the missing intern? He almost wished he could. That would make things so much more... Interesting.

But no. He was useless. Utterly, pathetically _useless_.

He hated that. Being useless. There was nothing worse than being faced with such a problem and being unable to do anything about it. Unable to help, to protect, to save. If he couldn't do that, then what the hell use was he for?

Every time something bad happened the same thoughts seemed to course through his head.

"Booth!" He flinched as his name was shouted across the lab. Looking up he saw all the squints gathered around a computer. Hodgins, who had just recently come, soaked to the skin and covered in mud and limping, was huddling a little ways away looking shell shocked. _Shell shocked._That was a bit how Booth felt. But then again he was probably feeling only half the guilt that Hodgins was feeling. He didn't try to find out. He didn't want to know.

He walked warily to them.

_"_What?"

"We have something."

He looked at the screen and saw what looked like a very scrambled video of a bunch of cars and traffic. _Wait a moment..._Was that a stoplight video? From a traffic camera?

"How do you have this?" He knew that they had somehow gotten the video feed of a traffic camera. He looked at the locations. His stomach fluttered. This was just outside the area where the body had been found. The time coincided with the approximate time Wendell had been taken.

"Look at this," Angela blatantly ignored his question, but he let it go considering the circumstances.

A car suddenly came racing through across the road, ignoring a red light, and almost causing a crash between two cars coming down the perpendicular lane. The car had been coming from the direction of the crime scene. _If we can fix this video, we might be able to get a license plate._

"I'm on it," Angela said without having to be asked.

The connection within a family...

* * *

><p>I apologize for how long this took. I had uploading problems the past couple times I tried to save this. It was driving me crazy. Anyway! Hopefully this update isn't complete crap!<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

**BONES**

**The Demon in the Dark**

* * *

><p>I do not own Bones or the characters<p>

Rated T for violence, etc.

* * *

><p><strong>Wendell POV<strong>

When he regained consciousness, it was a slow, fragile process as he tried to register everything that had happened. Raising his head from the wall, he blinked in the darkness and was flooded by the memory of _how_ he got here. Okay... Now that the pain in his head had receded enough to allow him to think, he began to self-examine himself._ Concussion. Probably from being hit in the head by a gun or something close to that..._ Apparently he wasn't able to think _too_ much. As he began to rise to his feet, he felt a throbbing pain in his side. _Bruised ribs. Time of healing varies depending on seriousness. And other factors._Like having a serial killer trying to kill you?

He moved along the wall, forced to lean against it until his eyes began to adjust to it. He could see a little now, and was able to recognize shelves, desks, and tables all around him. There were books everywhere and it almost looked as though he was standing in the middle of a library.

Suddenly trying to imagine where he could possibly be, he struggled. It couldn't be a public place where people went near all the time - that would be pure stupidity on the part of a rather clever serial killer - and it was obviously a large building judging by how far he had already gone before ending up here. Most likely it was some place outside of the reach of the more occupied section of the city - a rural maze hidden out in the trees?

That's what it felt like to him.

A maze.

But there had to be a way out. He had to find it.

He couldn't help but wonder if the other victims had felt the exact same thing as they looked for an exit to this place - or had they been killed somewhere else? Had this just been a choice killing site made by the killer whom simply used easy places to find?

Was he as clever as Wendell was giving him credit for?

He shook his head to clear the thoughts and wished he hadn't. Bracing himself, he shuffled slowly from the room, glancing around in all directions like a deer knowing there was a predator nearby. He felt like a deer. Or even a mouse, a rabbit, or some other creature low on the food chain who wondered if their killer could be around the next corner. In that second, he found he could connect to every other living thing - the hunted.

He could almost imagine the killer was following him every step of the way.

* * *

><p><strong>Booth POV<strong>

"The license plate is registered to a Mr. John Wagner. He was reported missing several months ago after..." Angela trailed off. When Booth turned to look at her he saw that her eyes were wide with surprise and her face was pale.

Looking over her shoulder, several things caught his eye - Victim of a violent crime. Family was murdered in their homes after an unknown man broke in. They had been brutally beaten. Wagner vanished not long afterwards. _Brutally beaten. To death._ He could almost feel pity for their now main suspect. Almost - if he wasn't suspected of kidnapping one of his people. Yes, he still referred to all of them as _his_.

"That explains a lot, really," Booth flinched as Sweets suddenly leaned over his shoulder. "Most people who suffer from violent crimes - whether in an attack or being family of the attacker - will try and take their pain out on others as a way to lessen their own. It doesn't quite work. It's never enough, so they keep evolving."

Booth glared at him.

He hated when Sweets got all distant and shrinky. Especially when one of their own were at stake.

"Hang on guys," Angela finally snapped back in to focus. "We can look at other traffic cameras in the area to get a general direction of where he went."

Booth wondered why he hadn't thought of that earlier. He was the agent and was supposed to know this stuff.

"Right, and when you-" Angela was already typing away, pulling up cameras, and looking at video feeds at a mile a minute. He felt a little more certain that they would find their missing squint with his team beside him.

* * *

><p><strong>Wendell POV<strong>

His steady pace had turned in to a desperate run. Paranoia was getting the best of him. The killer was everywhere.

As he ran, he wondered if he was going in circles, because he could have sworn he had run past that beam before. This building was one giant labyrinth and it was driving him crazy. He couldn't keep running like this forever, as the movement was sending an explosion to his brain every time he brought his foot down on the metal floor.

Something came at him from the corner of his eye and he flinched.

He hit the ground hard, rolling around to feel blood running down his chin. As he tried to jump to his feet, a boot smashed in to his knee, sending him back to the ground. Pain burning him and he could have sworn that his knee had broke.

Anger erupted in his chest.

It lent him the energy to leap in to the air, dodging another swing, and slam in to the killer. He was much smaller than the psychopath, but the momentum sent then slamming in to the wall before hitting the ground. Wendell was crushed beneath him as they rolled, but he managed to wrap his arms around the killer's wrists and twist them hard, before jerking both his arms behind his back in an effort to subdue him.

It didn't work as well when he was practically being squished, but it was effective in getting them to roll again.

One arm slipped from his grip and wedged in to his rib cage.

He grunted, winded as he was thrust away by the blow. Coughing, he struggled shakily to his feet, finding it hard to stand on his aching leg. The killer was up, but it was impossible to tell if he was grimacing or smiling. Creepy, disgusting bastard.

The killer moved. He flinched.

Suddenly a fist was swinging at his face. This time he successfully dodged it, only to get a knee in the gut.

Crumpling, he could only lay hunched over and gasping air for several seconds before he had control over his body again. _Shit!_He barely rolled to dodge being hit by a random piece of wood... Which had come nowhere, it seemed to him.

_What the hell is with this guy?_He wondered, shuffling slowly to one side.

He didn't give in too easily though. He would fight until he was dead or unconscious, but hopefully he could get out of here - or get found by Booth - sometime before that happened. He wasn't willing to die just so this freak could get some cruel satisfaction out of killing someone.

With that set in his mind, he focused as the killer swung the wood weapon once again at him before he lunged.

The weapon missed, and this time he practically tackled the man's arm. He bit down hard, forcing the man to drop the wood as they both toppled to the ground. Unfortunately he hadn't thought this through very hard. The killer's other arm wrapped around his throat, strangling him as a knee pressed down on his back. He gasped, caught sight of a piece of debris that looked strangely metallic in nature, wrapped his fingers tight, and then plunged it backwards as far as he could.

The sharp metal struck something hard, and he felt it cut in to his own hand and fingers, then slid along and sunk in to something soft... Warm liquid trickled down his fingers, not all of it his own blood.

The scream of pain was almost inhuman.

During the lapse of attention he managed to wriggle away and stumble half blindly, his body crippled by aches. He glanced back, cringing at the sight of metal stuck in killer's right eye - but it would help him. He had a chance to escape and he took it.

* * *

><p><strong>Booth POV<strong>

He was racing down the road followed by several cruisers, with Brennan in the seat beside him, naturally.

There were no sirens and no lights for this mission. They did not want to alert the killer that they were coming. If he heard them coming and had Wendell in his sights, he would probably kill him immediately. Better to have the element of surprise on their side.

After Angela had tracked the vehicle all a road leading out of the city, Sweets helped them by explaining the "best" place the killer would pick.

Rural, empty, and incredibly complex.

Forget all the shrinky mumbo-jumbo. Booth had taken off and Brennan had followed him. The sound of her loading her too-large gun made him glance over. He had no idea why she had to pick such a large gun to use instead of a normal one. It still made him nervous even though he knew she would never shoot him - on purpose... Which was the problem, really.

She had shot him by accident once.

He did not forget that.

"Where do you keep that thing?" He asked finally. He never had any idea how she came out with that. There was never any gun bulge in her coat or anywhere, really. It seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"I want to shoot him," she stated seriously.

"Yes."

He needed to say nothing more.

* * *

><p>Once again I've had uploading problems - and it really ticked me off because I had a really good update, hit save, and the site logged me out! D: Oh well! I hope this can make up for it! I tried to make it longer. Anyway, next chapter might be the last; however I am considering a sequel. :D All depends on whether you guys like it or not! Happy ThanksgivingTurkey Day by the way!


	7. Chapter 7

**BONES**

**The Demon in the Dark**

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><p>I do not own Bones or the characters<p>

Rated T for violence, etc.

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><p><strong>Wendell POV<strong>

He kept running, despite the fact that his body was beginning to fail him. The pain was nothing more than another thing trying to slow him down - like ropes and bindings - though even without it he was forced to stumble slowly away.

His hand automatically found walls, doors, and railings to keep himself standing.

He wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but he heard the sound of heavy breathing behind him and someone running. He had to get away.

There must be an exit somewhere nearby.

His heart was racing, his chest hardly pumping air properly through his body, and his nerves were firing and tingling. Suddenly his senses told him something was wrong.

He hit the ground hard as a weight struck him in the back, and he knew he was pinned before even trying to move. A knee was crushing down on his spine, and a large, powerful hand was grabbing towards his flailing arms. Thrashing in panic, he twisted his heard and bit down on a finger that was not his own. He heard the exclamation of pain and the weight shifted, just enough.

He rolled.

The man hit the ground.

Gasping for air, he was on his feet and lunging out of the room. He shot around the corner and careened in to a heavily built chest, feeling his heart explode with terror as he clawed to get away.

"Wendell!" The familiar voice startled him as strong arms wrapped around him, stopping him from fighting back, and suddenly he was being pivoted around.

"Get down," Booth said.

_Not a problem_, Wendell thought, sinking to the floor. The voices following were disembodied, deep, and rather uninteresting to him. He'd rather not hear what they had to say. That was easy too. Exhaustion made them sound like the echoes from a megaphone after it had died down. They seemed to be angry, though. And desperate, one of them? Suddenly there was a loud roar that made his head spin even worse. He raised his hand slowly to touch his head as the roar rocketed around his skull.

"Mr. Bray," a familiar, female voice made him at least give the effort to focus.

Dr. Brennan's fuzzy figure swarmed in and out of reality.

He tried to respond but it came out as a wordless, half audible grunt.

Somewhere it occurred to him that everything was alright now. Relief allowed him to let go and pass out in to arms of his friends.

* * *

><p><strong>Booth POV<strong>

Booth looked down coldly at the dead body of the killer. Somewhere in his mind he registered that it was over. The shooting was justified. The killer had tried to pull a weapon.

That wasn't the reason Booth had shot him.

When Wendell came smashing in to him like a bat out of hell, he took one look at his battered shape and flew in to rage. He was going to kill this man.

"Booth." He turned.

Brennan was lowering Wendell's unconscious form to the ground.

"Is he..?"

"He will survive." She responded and her voice became detached. There was going to be problems. But at least they had gotten him back alive.

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><p>Sequel or no? I have an idea for a sequel but only if there's anything you'd want me to write. xP<p>

This has been surprisingly stressful for a reason I can't understand. Anyway. All done. All good. Thanks for reading!


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